My Bittersweet Goodbye

My Friend helped me with this piece.. Its a sad story just after her dad died of a gun-shot and her mother committed suicide... Comment if u liked it or if anything should or shouldn't of happened!! :)

Grab. Rip. Burn. Throw. Throw the memories away. Grab them, tear them apart, let the flames devour them, and throw them out of my life.

Grab. I lifted one of the many photos which were scattered across my single bed. My black, and silver laced comforters and my dark violet bedsheets and pillows were sprawled out on the floor. I had thrown them off in a fit of raw anger.

Rip.

I clamped my pointers and thumbs on either side of the photo, and slowly tore it in two halves. I pressed the halves together, and hovered the image of shattered memories above the candle. I stared at the flame. It looked beautiful. Just as all candle lights do. It’s amazing how something so beautiful could afflict so much pain on a being.

Burn.

I lowered the image toward the flame. Lower. Lower. Lower. The flames licked at the image. It ate it up like candy. I stared. The image was slowly burning away. The paper shrunk and coiled at it’s edges and corners, slowly dragging upward.

Throw.

Once the flames made their way halfway up the split photograph, I raised it. The flames grew greedily, as if wanting more and more. I held the half ruined image delicately between my finger and thumb, before throwing it a couple of mere feet away. I watched as it continued to burn. The flames continued to lick endlessly at it. In seconds, the entire image was swallowed whole. Once the flames died out, it would be nothing but a crumbled, destroyed mess. A destroyed mess of memories.

Grab. Rip. Burn. Throw.

Grab. Rip. Burn. Throw.

I burned them all. All of the images of my family, and myself. All of the memories of happiness.

Grab. rip. Burn. Throw. The process repeated itself over and over, in an endless cycle. As I reached over for the next photo. My fingers never met the next photograph. I padded around my bed, searching for the next memory to erase.

I turned my head around swiftly, my dark brown locks swirling with me.

…That was it. I had thrown out the last one. The last of the memories of my parents. My eyes slid shut, as my head bowed. I grabbed a single pillow off the floor, and laid it down at the end of my bed. I slowly sunk down, letting my head fall limply on the pillow. I let the warmth absorb me.

My eyes flipped open once again. I gasped. So many images…flashing before my eyes.

My mother. My father. The gun. The Knife. My Father sprawled out on the floor. The blood. The Last Glance. My Mother crying. The Fire. The Phone call….The End. The end of everything I once knew. My eyes squeezed shut. I tried to block the memories out. Each image that slid across my eyes like a movie were like each large daggers thrusted deeply into my flesh.

The scenes continued to play themselves, even with my eyes shut. They even seemed to go slower, just to be spiteful. The daggers in my flesh were now twisting themselves around in a full circle. My torso shot upward. A loud gasp escaped from my lips.

I wrapped my arms tightly around my chest, as if trying to keep myself from falling apart. My breathing was heavy. I was panting. The scenes died down and came to an evanescent end.

It hurt to think of them. It hurt to remember them. Everything involving them hurt. The pain was slowly pumping its way throughout my body.

I attempted to lay back down, but each time I had tried, my chest would burn and throb even more each time. I sniffled. I was on the verge of tears. My arms still wrapped around my chest, I scooted further back, and pressed my left side against the wall/bed frame, my front facing the window. I stared out of the translucent glass; It was raining. A light fog was smeared across.

I raised a very shaky hand, and pressed a single finger against the glass. I let my finger sit motionless for a few minutes. The time froze once again. Just as it had those previous nights. I slowly slid my finger down,

“Ahhh!” A blood curling scream filled the air abruptly. I gasped, both of my palms clamping over my mouth and nose. My eyes widened as I jumped back, hastily making my way to the other side of my bedroom. I pressed my back against the door.

The scream…it’s host was m y mother. Her sweet, calming voice, has now made a turn for the worse. A very nasty turn. Her voice was filled with determination, sheer terror, regret, sorrow…and pain. Most likely the pain I was feeling at this very moment. A bitter tear slowly trailed down my cheek, resting at the cup of my chin.

“Mommy…” a hoarse whisper managed to escape with strain from my mouth. Followed by a pair of whimpers. My back still pressed to the door, I slid my way down, more scenes flashed before my eyes. More blood, more screaming, and more crying. All of it, repeating itself. It would never end for me. And no one was here to even help me through it.

“Mommy.” I repeated, but this time, was surely louder. As if I wanted to call out for her, but was too weak to call any louder. My hands grabbed at my hair as my finger nails tangled their way through. The scenes’ playback speed doubled- tripled- it kept going faster, and faster and faster.

“Mommy,” I said, my voice was tight. I practically growled as if I were a rabid beast. I uttered her former title as if it were poison. “Mommy…you abandoned me. I stood by you after daddy left us. Even when I knew I was hurting a lot more than you ever were.” My voice grew louder, and louder.

I began to rise to my feet. “When you were crying,” my hands fell furiously to my side. “I was there for you. I held you as you wept.”

“When you were too depressed to eat, I made you dinner, and I brought it to you.” I stepped forward ever-so-slightly. “I did literally everything for you. I did everything YOU were supposed to do for ME!” I was shouting now. My body began to shake uncontrollably as I got closer and closer to the window in front of me.

“You were supposed to be the mother, but I was the one who did everything for you! You’re not a mother…you…you’re a traitor!” I stood directly in front of the window. I glared at each of the rain drops as they continued to pound down on the mushed floor.

“You weren’t there for me!!” I Screamed. I screamed as loud as I possibly could. Without thinking, my hand rose. As it pulled back, I saw my mother’s face on the window’s reflection. “You. Were never. My mother! AH!” My fist made contact with the window right with my mother’s face was.

Crash.

I watched as her face shattered into tiny fragments. I watched as I broke her.

I covered my head with my arms, and ducked beside my bed, my back facing the window. I felt small shards of glass slash across my back. The rain began to pour mercilessly into my bedroom. The violent winds swirled unforgivingly, making a wreck out of what used to be my beloved sanctuary.

I squinted through the cold air and rain, and saw crimson all across my right fist. Shards of glass shimmered lightly. I grabbed a part of my jacket, and clamped it around my wounded hand, ignoring the remaining pieces of glass entirely.

My eyes squeezed shut, as I curled into a small ball. I had to say goodbye. That was all that was left. She would be free of me. An insignificant being who couldn’t even save her own mother or father from death. And I can exist without her… She was alwas my mother…never again shall I doubt that. “Mommy…” No emotion was laced in my voice. “…Goodbye.”

My friend set up a website to show all her stories if you would like to read more like this story... This is actually the 2nd chapter of a book she's working on, the first one didn't get onto the website... SO... if you want more just tell me :)